The Terrible Dawn
Waking to soft morning light,
a lazy breeze sweeps in.
No traces left of last night,
only your scent on my skin,
and this cold day to begin.
Images flutter across my eyes,
your face too close to be clear.
The chorus of never ending sighs,
an hour ago you were here.
Morning shatters this hazy dream,
this fate we knew, I know.
A perfect pair so it would seem,
but then you go,
your imprint on my
pillow.
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Copyright © A. Kross | Year Posted 2010
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